


Mastering Feelings

by ES_Rowan



Series: Strange Magic [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cute, Cute Vision (Marvel), F/M, Fluff, Minor Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Romance, Slow Romance, Sweet Vision (Marvel), Telepathic Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27479233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ES_Rowan/pseuds/ES_Rowan
Summary: “One can be the master of what one does, but never of what one feels.”― Gustave FlaubertA pep talk from Clint gives Vision the confidence to master his feelings and speak to Wanda.Strange Magic is a series of snippets and moments in time between Wanda and Vision, in no particular order.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff & Vision, Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Series: Strange Magic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007952
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	Mastering Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Marvel or any of the characters.  
> I am using them purely for fun and creative purposes!

_ How did this happen? _

_ I became. . . distracted. _

_ I didn’t think that was possible. _

_ Neither did I. _

* * *

Vision closed his eyes, his forehead resting against the cool window.

Colonel Rhodes was badly injured, something that had happened because of him, because of this strange magic that had slowly infiltrated his life and his mind.

_ Wanda. . . _

Their friendship had blossomed, gone from strength to strength and he felt so comfortable in her presence, like he could just  _ be  _ without excuses or explanations. He wasn’t frightened of her, she didn’t tread lightly around him as some others did - there was no fear, no distrust, just a solid foundation that had become stronger as time went out.

But with that came this distraction, this split in his mind that had once been singular, focused and razor sharp. He was now confused, synapses firing where they hadn’t before, a muddle of strange new feelings and it had become too much.

What was it all about?

Was it magic, a carefully crafted illusion or spell that had been woven around him to steer him away from what his true purpose really was - something insidious and sneaky that would crumble him from the inside out?

Vision found that he could not remember when it first began, this strangeness within him that took over whenever Wanda was near-it was almost as though something in him reacted like a magnet, gravitating towards her.

Perhaps it was the power that coursed through her; similar to the stone that had residence in his head, like calling to like, perhaps.

But this felt as though it was more than that. Some kind of deeper connection that had somehow formed itself from nowhere and burrowed into him, little hooks catching and pulling when she came close to him.

Whatever it was, it was not something he had been prepared for, this need for proximity and certainly was not something he was able to process.

Not without help, anyway. But who to ask?

His first thought was Mr Stark, but the man’s proclivity for snark and mockery-even though both were good natured-gave him pause, made him reconsider. 

Maybe the Captain, then? He always seemed to be a calming, gentle person; someone who could pass on good, clear advice and help him make sense of what was happening. 

But what if this was a malfunction? Something mechanical that was wrong, a burned out neuron or faulty wires? Would Dr Banner be a more appropriate candidate to talk to, someone with vast scientific knowledge and the ways and means to fix whatever the problem was? 

However his choice was made long ago - the choice of something more over duty and now those lines of communication were nothing more than silent airwaves and answering machines.

Ah, it was so difficult to know, to understand and to make the correct decision.

He didn't want there to be anything wrong with him, in a physical sense anyway, but there was something far more concerning about the problem being something else. Something  _ other. _

What else could it be?

Clearly there was something happening inside him, perhaps the mind stone was affecting him in new ways, ways that nobody could have foreseen or perhaps the changes he had gone through-being JARVIS, the jarring nature of a sudden becoming as he evolved to Vision-had corrupted something, causing this strange new need to be as close to Wanda as was possible.

_ Need? _

Where had that word come from?

He moved away from the window, the coolness of the glass was not helping bring the maelstrom of thoughts in his mind to any kind of calm and turned to find the object of said thoughts perched on a stool in the kitchen; hands cupped around a steaming mug - coffee most likely, if he knew her at all - hair falling over her face, her shoulders hunched over.

From the line of her body, the tension within her was clear and immediately he wanted to go to her, offer her comforting words or something -  _ anything _ \- that would ease her doubts and her worries.

“You going in there or you just gonna bore a hole through the back of her head?”

Vision turned to find Clint leaning against the wall, a smirk on his lips as he twirled an arrow between his fingers.

“I. . . ah. . .” Vision shrugged, a helpless gesture that made Clint chuckle. “I am not certain it would be appropriate for me to. . .”

“Bullshit.” The retort was short and sharp, “you’re scared, I get it. This has got to be confusing as hell for you. But you don’t need to make it worse for yourself, you know? You came to my place for a reason, right? And it wasn’t just to help her move.”

Vision opened his mouth and closed it again, watching Clint casually toying with the arrow.

“I’ll tell you what I told her,” he nodded to the kitchen, “you can stay here. Nobody is gonna blame you for that. But if you don’t go in there and talk to her, you ain’t gonna know how your life could change.” Clint shrugged and moved away, walking towards the back door and his farmland beyond, “it’s your call. Just don’t hurt her, okay.”

_ As if I ever could,  _ Vision thought, watching him walk outside and greet his daughter with a bear hug.  _ As if I would ever want to. _

Steeling himself, he walked into the open-plan kitchen and placed a gentle hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

She startled and looked up at him, her usually bright eyes dull and reddened from what he assumed was tears.

He was taken aback by how much he hated the thought of her crying.

“I thought perhaps you would like some company?” 

“Thank you, Vis,” her smile was weak, but it still warmed him all the same, as did the use of the nickname she had given him, “that’s kind of you.”

He nodded and settled on a stool next to her, his hand moving from her shoulder to his lap as uncertainty took over.

“Would you like to talk about what is bothering you?”

“I don’t think I know where to start,” her voice was quiet, shaky and Vision reached out to take one of her hands, unsure if it was even a welcome gesture, but something in him told him to at least  _ try. _

He was surprised, pleasantly when her warm fingers curled around his, his thumb stroking gently over her hand.

“I can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. She looked at him from the corner of her eyes and allowed herself to feel the warmth of his fingers squeezing hers. “Talk to me? Tell me something good, please?”

Vision let out a soft  _ “hmm”  _ sound and thought for a moment.

This was the moment Clint was talking about - the moment that he could take and find out what the future held for him or he could stay silent and offer platitudes.

But how,  _ how  _ could he tell her what he was feeling when he didn’t have a word for it himself?

“Vis. . ?” Her voice, lilting and quiet, drew him away from his thoughts and he gave himself an internal shake.

It was time.

And he could only hope that Wanda had been experiencing the same as he, otherwise this friendship was about to crash and burn, as Mr Stark would say.

“Wanda,” he began and realised how serious he sounded, how grave and formal and he cleared his throat, but the words stuck there as though bound with tape. He let out a small breath and found her watching him carefully, eyes full of something he couldn’t discern; something that calmed him and frightened him all at once.

“Is something wrong?” She asked, tugging her hand away and twisting one of her silver rings around her finger.

Oh. Oh  _ no. _

This was going wrong already.

He missed the contact of her hand on his, the gentle pressure of her fingertips; the way her skin felt - soft and smooth, the way that he felt when his hand covered hers, as though it was the most natural thing for him to be doing. 

He reached out and took both hands in his, pressing his fingertips to hers and marvelling at the way their hands looked when he twined their fingers together - hers, pale and slender and delicate against his red synthetic skin and yes, it may be a strange combination to some, but to him it was  _ right  _ and  _ want  _ and  _ need  _ and this is what he wants to say, but - 

“Why is it so difficult?” He blurted and blinked, as if the words had been dragged out of him and taken him by surprise.

“What’s difficult?” Wanda looked confused, which was not at all surprising to him because he is not making sense and that in itself is odd and jarring. “Would you like me to go?”

“No!” He moves his hands to her shoulders as though he could pin her in place and then, wondering if the gesture is too intimidating, he takes her hands again and with them a deep breath.

_ Now or never _ , he thinks.

“Wanda, you distract me. In the best, most wonderful way, you distract me and I did not think that possible; I did not think that something like this could happen to me because I am not human at all, I am an android and this should not be happening. I thought perhaps there was something wrong with me because instead of thinking about how best to serve Mr Stark and the other Avengers, I think of you and what it would be like to sit with you in the manner Mr Stark sits with Miss Potts when they share their evenings together and, Wanda, it is strange and new and I cannot make sense of this, I cannot parse it; there is no data and -”

Wanda giggles.

She  _ giggles _ , she is laughing at him, at his confession and he shrinks away inside himself just a little bit because obviously he has this all wrong and it really is just a misfiring synapse that needs fixing and. . .

“Vis,” she whispers and moves one of her hands to cup his cheek, her eyes gentle and full of some unidentifiable emotion, something he wants to name but cannot at all and his thoughts are moving too fast for him to catch, everything fluttering around inside him like. . .oh, what are those winged insects called that people are always saying take residence in their stomachs when they’re nervous or excited?

“Butterflies,” she murmurs, and did he say that out loud? She shakes her head, smiling, her fingers stroking his cheek tenderly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have - I sort of read your mind. You were struggling, I thought perhaps it might help? But butterflies, those are the insects and Vision, I feel it too.”

Vision looks at her, shock and wonder on his face as he brings their joined hands up to his lips and kisses her knuckles; chaste and sweet, relief washing over him as she blushes and bites her lips, looking downward.

“I think of you more often than I should,” she says with a little laugh, “I thought I was going crazy at first, but the more time we spent together, the more I thought of you. I began to miss you when you weren’t around, I wanted to be by your side -”

She stopped talk when his hands moved to her face, thumbs stroking her cheek, bringing them closer together and when they are a whisper apart, her eyes fluttering closed in anticipation of a moment she has been thinking about for  _ months  _ and one he never thought would happen in his life, let alone with this wonderful wildfire of a woman; he runs a thumb over her lower lip and quietly asks “may I. . .?”

She nods, not trusting herself to speak and break the gravity of the moment and he tilts her chin up and brushes his lips over hers.

“You have bewitched me, Wanda,” his voice is barely a whisper and she sighs softly against his lips, resting her forehead against his. 

He smiles, eyes closed as they just sit like that in the kitchen; silent but for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the click of the coffee machine as it percolates and drips fresh coffee into the waiting carafe.

This moment would be etched into his memory, the moment where he found his voice and finally mastered his feelings; the moment when his dear, cherished friendship with his scarlet witch became something else.

Something. . .  _ more. _


End file.
